


Piano Man

by Laureiel (CunningMnemosyne)



Category: The Lord of the Rings - All Media Types
Genre: Friendship, Gen, I wrote this fic two years ago
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-02-06
Updated: 2017-02-06
Packaged: 2018-09-22 12:09:28
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Major Character Death
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,289
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/9606965
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CunningMnemosyne/pseuds/Laureiel
Summary: This was inspired by the song Piano man from Billy Joel. Legolas and Gimli are going to a tavern in Valinor, in remembrance of their old friends. Gimli has business to do. Legolas need to become elvish again.





	

**Author's Note:**

> So I was listening to 'Piano Man' from Billy Joel and I got an idea for this fic. It turned out to be a bit sadder in the end that I expected. That being said, I have a warning: there will be a character death in this fic.
> 
> This fic is set in Valinor, after Legolas and Gimli have sailed.  
> It is unbeta'ed and I apologise for any mistakes, since English is not my native language. I don't own any of these characters.  
> Please read & review!

**Piano man**

Legolas walked up the hill, ready to play for another night. Gimli sat on a horse silently beside him, his old bones no longer able to carry him as far as they used to. It had become some sort of a ritual, walking to the tavern, a time for quiet reflection. They were halfway when both friends stopped and Legolas walked a few paces away from the main road, the horse followed him.

The elf bowed down and placed a bouquet on the three graves next to the road side, one for each of the ringbearers. The elf shuddered, soon there would be a fourth grave, one for his good friend. This night would be one for remembrance, which is why they had taken this route, and not the shorter one that they normally took.

The road was called 'Colindo Lango', Quenya for Ringbearers Passage. When he first walked this road, Legolas remembered being in shock. Somehow, in an irrational part of his mind he had thought that Frodo and Sam would not have aged in the immortal lands and would’ve greeted him and Gimli on their arrival. Logic had dictated otherwise, but the news of their deaths had still come as a shock, so soon after Aragorn's.

When he went to Elrond's house for the first time, he almost regretted coming to Valinor, for the news that he had to bring was harsh and seemed unfair. Yet he had managed, and he had witnessed the grief on the faces of the Lord and the Lady when he told them of the fate of their daughter, laying forever at peace in fading Lórien. The twins too, had been devastated and he had tried to do his best to comfort them while still feeling the grief of their passing himself.

He had watched all his friends grow old, and it had aged him also. Éomer, Éowyn, Faramir, Pippin, Merry, Arwen and Aragorn. Time was an enemy he could not defeat, and soon it would slay the last of his friends. He had felt it the first time he stepped on Aman, that he was different. Or rather say, that he had  _become_  different. His perception of time was too slow, a mortal year felt like a mortal year to him instead of merely a blink in the passage of time. The only one that truly understood time as he now understood it, had exchanged his fiery red looks for silver-grey and the strength he used to have and swing his powerful axe with had now left the wrinkled hands.

Strange that he, an elf, would learn melancholy from his mortal friends. Next to him Gimli started hacking and coughing. With practised ease, Legolas assisted him with dismounting, and stood like a guardian over Gimli while the old dwarf was overcome with a coughing fit. When Gimli was quiet again he waited until the dwarf gave him his permission to assist, for Gimli had lost none of his pride. Then the two friends continued their way to the tavern.

Gimli huffed softly when he saw the look that flashed over Legolas' face. His friend worried too much and seemed to walk under a great burden. Relatively he was now the elder of the two as he liked to remind Legolas. 'Well,' he would say 'Look here, laddie. You are considered young to your people. Now I, I am an old dwarf, and my people already call me elder. This means that I am older than you. Age creates wisdom, as you were so wont to remind me during the quest and our travels thereafter. Since I am older than you that means that I am wiser as well, ergo you have to do as I say and stop worrying!'

He would have to say that again soon, it seemed. Not now though, now they were on the Ringbearers Passage, now they were remembering old friends and Legolas was allowed to grieve. Yet Gimli could not stop worrying what would happen after he had been enchased into the deep warm ground that he came from. He felt the sweet gift of all mortals coming close and knew that next year, the elf would walk here alone. That was the reason that he would travel this road once more, defying old age just once more. After this visit he would give in to his complaining bones, his cold skin and his muscles' aches. After this visit he would say goodbye to Legolas and call all those he had met to his bedside. After this visit he would sleep the sleep of all mortals and journey to the halls of Mahal the Maker. Strange, that elves would fear this gift so, but then again they only knew death through violence and grief, perhaps they were right in their fear.

His lungs still hurt and squeaked with every breath he took, but that condition was something he had become used to as well. He remembered the first time he understood that the axe he had carried since his coming of age was no longer his to use anymore. How he understood that he could not journey far anymore. Yes, he had been a hale dwarf when he and Legolas sailed to the undying lands, but even then he had already been considered old among his kindred. He had had a few good years in Valinor, before old age started asking for concessions. Soon he would be freed of this body, but not yet, he had a few things to take care of here in Valinor.

Both breathed a sigh of relief when they arrived at the tavern. It was still dark and quiet in there, but that would soon change. Legolas again assisted when Gimli dismounted, and helped the dwarf who was leaning heavily on the elf's arms to the chair before the hearth. The elf quickly sparked a fire in the fireside and brought blankets to the dwarf.

'Here, Elvellon. Call when it is too cold, or too warm, or if you want anything else. I will give you some ale, and here is your pipe and you weed pouch, shall I open it for you?' Getting a brief nod he carefully unknotted the string, now too thin and complicated to be unravelled by old dwarven hands, and gave the pipe weed to his friend. He had hated pipeweed for most of his life, but with the realisation that he would not smell it any longer, because his friends would not be there to smoke it, he had learned to first tolerate, and later even enjoy the peaceful picture of a mortal contently puffing away.

It was almost nine o'clock, which meant that he should start tuning the grand piano in the corner of the room. The guests would arrive soon.

Elrond was the first to arrive, and with him came Celebrian, his sons and the lady Galadriel. Legolas bowed to them and led them to Gimli, whose eyes started to shine when they beheld her beauty again. After their arrival the inn filled quickly. Glorfindel came, Erestor arrived and even Gandalf came in his guise of an old man, and many other elves, from Ithilien, from Imladris and from Lothlorien. The elves that had known his mortal friends, that had known Arwen. The tavern filled and all elves were silently sipping their drinks.

Suddenly a voice boomed, with the strength that only a dwarf could possess. 'Here now, we are in a tavern, but I hear no voice raised in song, nor any chatting, talking, speaking, recitations or tales. Are you truly the merry elves I have heard so much about? A night of remembrance this shall be, but in the style of the dwarves; ale shall flow richly and tales shall be told and song shall be song! I would remind you all that I am ancient for my race, and thus all elves, or at least the young ones, should do my bidding.'

'Very well then, Master Gimli!' Elrohir cried out. 'Yet forgive us if we indulge ourselves in wine, instead of the fabled dwarven beers, for we are elves. Still I would honour your proposal, and thus I say, Legolas step forwards, for all of us know of your talent as an archer yet few know of your talent as a piano-player, give us a song, my dear piano-elf. We are all in the mood for a melody!'

'Hear, hear! My brother speaks rare words of wisdom. Enjoy them for they are rarer than Mithril. Come now, forest prince, grace us with your talents and play something!' Elladan called.

Under all the encouragement Legolas stood, and walked to the piano. 'Then, my friends, Elvellon, rejoice for I shall not disappoint you. What song do you want to hear? Call, and I will play.'

While Legolas made his way over to the piano, Gimli waved Elladan and Elrohir over. The twins readily came and took with them another tankard of ale. Both of them bowed to their grandmother and parents before asking 'My dear dwarf, what can we do for you?'

'Sit down, young rascals, and give me some of that ale. It is wasted on you elves. What you can do for me? I want you two to look after Legolas, that's what I want!'

Elves were good at hiding expressions, but Gimli had become something of an elf-expert and could therefore see their surprise in the subtle lift of an eyebrow. 'Legolas seems to be just fine, friend.' Elladan said. 'Yet you have spent more time with him than us, so tell us then, what do we have to do?'

Irritated the dwarf shook his head. 'Using those eyes your parents gave you, for a start! Legolas is not fine, nor is he all right or feeling good. Legolas is feeling the years of us, mortals, upon him and he is slowly collapsing under the pressure. Mahal knows that those slim shoulders of his, or indeed of all elves, can handle the weight of mortality. If you have not seen that, then you are lesser friends that the elf deserves!'

'Our pardon, master dwarf. Your words are harsh, but perhaps the truth is also in them. Let us remedy that and promise that we will do whatever we can to help him, if that is your wish.'

This time Gimli nodded. 'I accept your apology, but do not let it happen in the future again for I might not be there to remind you of my words! No, do not protest, we all know that it is true and that I will not live forever, whatever words Legolas might deceive himself with. Listen now. Legolas has lost his… elvishness if you will, and you have to help him get it back. I am afraid that he will be a mortal in an elf's body so to speak and will not find his true home here.'

'Now that you speak thusly, I understand and acknowledge what has you so worried.' Elrohir said. 'Your words are wise and true. Be assured that we will do our uttermost best to protect Legolas from grief, and to teach him how to be an elf again. Soon he shall be at home in his trees again, as a swallow is at home in the sky.'

'Thank you, your words in turn hearten me, but do not forget mine! Now I would like to speak to your parents please, and you two fools should go to Legolas.'

The next conversation went much the same, for the dwarf did not fear to speak bluntly against any of the elves, even if they were considered wise in the eyes of their kindred. Then the lady Galadriel took his hand, and they spoke of many things, both new and old, friends and strangers, distant lands, future and past.

Legolas meanwhile was having a good time as 'Piano-Elf', he had not realised how much he had missed playing and singing. The twins walked over to him, and although he questioned them on why Gimli had wanted to speak to them, they only said that he told them a tale of old, that they had once wanted to hear.

With a glance to the dwarf, he saw that Gimli was in deep conversation with Elrond, Celebrian, Glorfindel and Erestor. He brought some ale over and was prepared to keep Gimli company when the old dwarf shooed him away, saying that young elves should make merry on such a day. The twins appeared next to him and quickly dragged him back to the piano. They filled his glass again and again, and he relished how good it felt, to dance, to jump and to sing. He was happy and laughed out loud.

Gimli heard Legolas laughing merrily in the background, before bursting into another song. Elladan and Elrohir were singing loudly with him. Elrond and Erestor were in a deep discussion, and Glorfindel was telling tales to many of the folk around.

The lady, _ah_ the lady held his hand. Gimli looked down once more and then closed his eyes, an old dwarf on the brink of sleep. None noticed that his breast did not expand again, except for Galadriel, who placed a brief kiss on his forehead.

Before the old, wrinkled dwarf stood the Maker, his hand outstretched. Gimli looked back once more and saw his body laying peacefully in front of the fire, wrapped in blankets. Everyone he wanted to be there was there. Legolas was happy and the tavern echoed with laughter. People would take care of his friend, his business was done. Gimli took the hand and left his body and his friends behind him.

**Author's Note:**

> So this was way sadder than I planned, but it also felt right to end it here. Please review and let me know what you think!  
> Love,  
> Laureiel


End file.
